


My Good Omens

by Arvak



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek approves, Frottage, M/M, References Good Omens, Rutting, Snark, Stiles' POV, and banter, lots of snark, sexual content but I've yet to go into detail in any of my stories, they're both idiots, until Derek's POV takes a turn, why the hell is that I'm sorry smut lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 19:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21433624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arvak/pseuds/Arvak
Summary: Peter leaned in close and let the phone fall away from both of their mouths and he whispered against his ear, "A thought's just occurred to me..." He took a deep breath through his nose against his hair. The heat of his face right on Stiles' own was enough to send his head spinning. "Would you be willing to stay a while, dear boy?"Stiles' impulse control must be weak as ever because he didn't hesitate to nod against his hand, eyes wide, wild and eager. Peter looked more than pleased as he leaned back and put the phone back to his ear. "Tell you what, Sheriff," Peter continued in a perfectly normal tone even as Stiles' brain was currently short-circuiting. "Could I convince you to allow Stiles to stay the night?" A pause as Peter's eyes became darker, beginning to roam while his leg moved slowly and methodically against Stiles' erection. Stiles whined, arching a little, and it was muffled by his hand. "I could do some tests while he's here tonight, and Derek won't be returning until later tomorrow morning so we'll be fortunate enough to avoid his ill-timed overreactions. Besides, he managed to go on a theoretical physics rant instead of actually doing his homework so he still has that to complete."
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 13
Kudos: 215





	My Good Omens

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while dangerously sleep deprived. Except for the end. I was perfectly well rested for Derek's part.

_No, Miss Whitlock, I did not do my book report on The Astronomy Of The Bible. If Christians can complain about a book about evolution and science choose not to do a report on it, then people who are not Christians can do the same with a religious text (regardless of the failed grade, like, come on, do you really think I care at this point?). But, in order to maybe appease you, I did pick a book that had Christian ties and a Christian background. This book includes angels and demons and god and the Armageddon and stuff so hopefully you, as a bone-deep painfully obvious hardcore Christian, might enjoy it. Except I don't recommend you read it because it actually has a sense of humor which, as my entire hellish experience in your class has proven, you're actually terminally allergic to._

Stiles twittled his fingers as the teacher finished reading the opening paragraph of his essay.

"As you can see, Mister Stilinski," Miss Whitlock said, setting the papers down on the table. "Your son is in a lot of trouble." Her short brown hair was cut into a style that screamed _asshole _just as much as her mouth did. Her clothes, cut tight and sharp, mirrored the tone of her words.

It was a wonder she'd found a poor soul to lock down with a ring. If the tiny silver, un-jeweled wedding ring said anything about the state of their marriage, it'd be crying the blues.

Stiles, the Sheriff and the principal shared looks between one another. Each with similar levels of discomfort, frustration and exaspiration. The Sheriff sighed, reached out and flipped through Stiles' book report, then looked up at his son's teacher.

"There are eight pages of this thing," Stiles' dad said. Whitlock's mouth opened and shut a few times. "The sources are properly cited, there aren't any spelling errors... This is a proper report. This is a college-level report." He dropped the report down on the table with a sharp _slap_ of the papers and stood up, leaning over with his hands on the table. Stiles had to bite back a grin. "First of all, Miss Whitlock, it's _Sheriff_ Stilinski. Second of all, this report deserves an A plus. I understand that my son can be..." he side-eyed Stiles, "difficult... but he has given you a well-written essay. An essay better than even I can write, if I were honest. The subject of the essay is not, in the end, the focus of your grading rubric, and it's personally insulting to pretend it is. Stiles has done a good job, and I think the principal will feel the same."

The Sheriff, or _Sheriff Stilinski_ as he so dramatically declared, looked over at the principal, who sat back and entwined his fingers. His thinning eyebrows bounced a moment like a physical expression of his weakening love of his job. "Miss Whitlock, I believe Mister Stilinski here had all the right in the world to choose to do his report on a different book if his report is of this quality. And while some remarks in the opening paragraph should've been kept in his head," the principal shot a look to Sties, "it is no reason to give him an F on the assignment and send him to after-school detention."

Whitlock looked like she was about to start a temper tantrum and it was the most rewarding thing he's ever gained. She pressed her lips together as her face went red, fingers making daggers. She dug her nails into her own hands like all she wanted to do was strangle him, which wasn't an unusual thing to see, but she'd never before hid her hands under the table and pretend she wasn't imagining his bloody, gruesome death. She was - _gasp - _embarrassed!

"I think we're done here," the Sheriff said with a snort nod to the principal before he and Stiles made their glorious exit. If Stiles had a scarf to strut behind him, he would. He'd strut the shit out of his entire exit. He had finally won and that bitch of a teacher had finally been beaten! This moment out-shined all of the battles he'd survived and won against any monster of the week trying to terrorize the town.

As soon as they were in the car, though, his high was wrecked because his dad turned to him and shouted, "What the hell were you thinking?!"

Stiles, absolutely flabbergasted, flailed his arms and let out some kind of offended noise he couldn't hope to identify.

"You could've done that book report no problem! You don't give a shit about Christianity!"

"Hey, you also thought I wasn't gay!"

"_You're not gay!_"

'I'm totally gay!"

His dad rubbed his face. "Instead of making me miss work to drive all the way down here and deal with-"

Stiles flapped his hands in his dad's face before holding up a finger to interrupt him. "First of all, Dad, 'The Astronomy of the Bible' is so mind-numbingly boring. And also, okay, Good Omens is amazing! Neil Gaiman _and _Terry Pratchet!! They're geniuses! Okay. And one more thing, that teacher is the _worst!_ I swear it wouldn't surprise me if she was some sort of demon spawn or something."

The Sheriff sighed heavily and rubbed his face. "She better not be a demon spawn or I'm putting you in home school."

Stiles laughed and settled back in his seat. "It was a glorious report though."

His dad grumbled something that probably would've earned him another flail and offended gasp and started the car. Stiles squinted at him before looking out the window and doing a little fist-pump he hoped the Sheriff didn't see.

-

"How'd it go?" Peter asked once Stiles dropped down onto the couch with a sigh. Stiles stared at the man, who was reading some old, dusty, brown book in the chair next to the couch.

"How'd what go?" Peter glanced up at him with a raised brow. "Oh!" Stiles nodded. "Right."

Stiles had been over at the loft the other day working furiously on the book report. Apparently, he had been really pissed while he was doing it because Peter had sighed heavily and shut his book before leaning forward and glaring at Stiles, saying, "I'll give you ten minutes to improve your mood or I'm kicking you out." Of course, Peter didn't kick Stiles out even though he ranted enthusiastically about how awful his teacher was and how the whole 'keep religion out of school' only applies to any religion that isn't Christianity, apparently. Peter seemed amused and curious in what reaction the snarky report he'd typed up would elicit from the teacher.

"Yeah, so it was an amazing report and Whitfuck can go wallow in pity because she completely overreacted."

"Mm-hmm." Peter looked back down at his book with a tiny half-smirk.

"She tried to give me an F and after school detention, dude. But my dad 'it's Sheriff Stilinski to you''d her and the principle was cool and she totally got outranked. And," Stiles continued, "you were right, Good Omens was a fantastic book and you are the almighty book-advice giver." That made Zombiewolf crack a pleased smirk.

Stiles smiled to himself before wrestling his notebook out of his backpack. He asked, "Anyway, what are you reading?" while he grabbed a few pens and his laptop from his bag. He slid onto the floor and set his work out on the table.

"You wouldn't like it."

"Yeah? So what is it, then?"

A soft sigh passed Peter's lips as he flipped to the beginning and ending pages for a moment. "As far as I can tell, it's the history, uses, and myths of foxglove."

"Wow..." Stiles rose his brow. What use is that? "An entire text-book on foxglove... Does anything in there have any kind of truth?"

Peter hummed. "I'm not sure. Possibly."

Stiles grunted and dismissed his curiosity. "Well. I'm gonna work on calculus. Make me take a break when I start-"

"Mumbling in strange languages and pulling at your hair while smelling like you're about to go nuclear?" Peter glanced up and gave him a look. "I'm quite attune to your insanity level, dear."

Stiles flipped him off, mumbled, "Takes one to know one", got a shit-eating grin from him, then began on his homework.

Stiles snapped out of his hyper-focus on his homework to flail when something hit him in the side of the head. It was just a crumpled piece of paper but Stiles still glared over at Peter, who looked incredibly pleased with himself.

He gave the phone in his hand a little shake towards Stiles. "Your dad," he said.

Stiles held out and wiggled his hand, refusing to move. He got an exaggerated eye-roll, but Peter stood his happy ass up and set the phone in Stiles' hand. Stiles stared up at him while Zombiewolf peeked down at his paper full of mathematical rants and sketches.

"That doesn't look like calculus," Peter mumbled with a raised brow.

"I got distracted by gravitational time dilation and theory of relativity," Stiles said back, getting the second brow to raise, and then he put the phone to his ear. "Dad?"

"_Hi, son,_" his dad said in that 'you've done something wrong but I'm forgiving you because you didn't realize for a good reason but I'm still going to passive-aggressively give you shit about it' tone of voice. "_Take a look outside the windows for me real quick._"

Stiles winced and glanced out the large windows behind Derek's desk, and then he winced even harder.

"_Tell me what you see out there, kiddo._"

Stiles sighed. "The absence of our wonderful resident great ball of gas keeping our solar system in orbital rotation."

"_My rule-_"

"Yeah, yeah, back before dark. I was doing homework! And Peter didn't-" Stiles glared up at Peter. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Peter didn't even try to fake innocence. "It's not my job to be your personal alarm clock. Besides, it's fun to see you scramble through getting in trouble."

"I hate you."

"_Give the phone to Peter,_" his dad said.

"Uh-ohhhh, you're in _troouuubblllllleee_," Stiles childishly sing-songed as he handed Peter the phone with a grin. Peter smirked back and took the phone, then hit Stiles in the head with the pillow he snatched from the couch before heading to the door to grab his coat.

"Yes, Sheriff?"

Stiles wished he could eavesdrop like the wolves could so fucking bad. He climbed up onto the couch and hung over the back of it, staring at Peter and watching his expression become pleasantly curious in that searching way of his.

"I haven't noticed anything obvious," Peter looked right at Stiles and cocked his head. "But I'd be lying if I said I never suspected the possibility. Why do you ask?" There was a long pause and Stiles' curiosity was burning.

"What's he saying?" Stiles begged to know.

"Really?" Peter sounded incredibly intrigued, which only made Stiles' curiosity even worse. He threw himself off the couch and Peter smirked at him as he came walking over to him.

"_What's he saying??_" Stiles hissed, grabbing onto his jacket and fighting him as he tried to push him away.

"The odd spike here and there, but Derek and I never figured it was anything more than his Spark."

Stiles gasped loudly and shouted, "_You're talking about me! What's he saying?!_" Peter barked a startled laugh and grabbed Stiles by the front of his shirt and turned them around so that he could pin him against the wall. Stiles didn't think Peter noticed the sudden arrival of an erection, but Stiles sure did. It's a problem, getting hot and bothered from being pushed against a wall with a massive wall of _sexy werewolf _keeping him there, especially since it's _only_ the sexy werewolves that seem to like to do it so often.

"Stiles has no idea what we're discussing." Stiles smacked Peter's arm and reached for the phone. "The scent of his... _frustration_ is quite potent."

Stiles blushed and squinted while he dug his fingernails into Peter's arm. Was that a jab at him? Did he notice Stiles' -erm- _situation_ and just tease him about it while he was talking to his _dad? _Or did he not notice at all and by frustration did he mean literal frustration? Stiles can never tell what Peter's thinking. _No one_ can ever tell what Peter's thinking; he's pretty sure there's a line in the fine text of the laws of physics that specifically specify that very truth.

"I will keep that in mind." Peter smiled sweetly at Stiles once he huffed and gave up, stood pliant against the wall. "Thank you, Sheriff." He paused, then, and his smile fell the slightest bit to something a little more exasperated. "Yes sir. I won't keep Stiles out past his curfew for my own amusement."

Stiles cackled loudly and Peter squinted dangerously at him before the hand holding him against the wall by his chest moved to his mouth. He stepped closer and got nearly nose-to-nose with him. Stiles was doomed to feel the chills run down his spine as those icey blue eyes of Peter's stared into the warm whiskey depths of his own. The erection he was sporting got even harder and a drop of precum found its way to bead at the head, soaking and spreading into the fabric of his boxers. It was hard enough it began to strain at the his jeans. He felt his cheeks run hotter than ever and Peter grinned with too-sharp teeth, icey eyes lighting up with the blue fire of the shift. Peter came closer still and his hard thigh pressed against the hard line in his pants, causing Stiles to gasp around Peter's hand, eyes fluttering and docile. His heart began to beat double-time.

In an instant, things became surreal. One second, they were bantering like usual. The next, Peter was knowingly causing him pleasure_. Sexual_ pleasure. Something Stiles also thought was against the laws of physics to happen anywhere outside of his own fantasies and wet dreams. But here it is, happening. This was an existential oddity he wasn't prepared to encounter today!

Peter leaned in close and let the phone fall away from both of their mouths and he whispered against his ear, "A thought's just occurred to me..." He took a deep breath through his nose against his hair. The heat of his face right on Stiles' own was enough to send his head spinning. "Would you be willing to stay a while, dear boy?"

Stiles' impulse control must be weak as ever because he didn't hesitate to nod against his hand, eyes wide, wild and eager.

Peter looked more than pleased as he leaned back and put the phone back to his ear. "Tell you what, Sheriff," Peter continued in a perfectly normal tone even as Stiles' brain was currently short-circuiting. "Could I convince you to allow Stiles to stay the night?" A pause as Peter's eyes became darker, beginning to roam while his leg moved slowly and methodically against Stiles' erection. Stiles whined, arching a little, and it was muffled by his hand. "I could do some tests while he's here tonight, and Derek won't be returning until later tomorrow morning so we'll be fortunate enough to avoid his ill-timed overreactions. Besides, he managed to go on a theoretical physics rant instead of actually doing his homework so he still has that to complete."

A pause. Stiles watched the blue fire swirl entrancingly in Peter's eyes.

"I'll let you know if anything comes up... Absolutely. Goodbye, Sheriff."

Stiles' entire body broke out in excited goosebumps when Peter threw the phone across the room and grabbed Stiles' ass with both hands, burying his face in his neck, pressing a thick, hard bulge up against Stiles' own. A low growl rumbled in Peter's chest and Stiles let out a pitiful moan in return. "_Holy shit,_" found its way out of Stiles' mouth without his consent and Peter laughed into his neck.

Peter's little laugh was truly the most beautiful sound that Stiles had ever had the privilege of hearing. It was like a cool breeze over a lone flower atop a snowy mountain. This lone flower stood alone, a single entity of color amidst a world of white. And the flower was the electric blue of the most violent lightning storm, just like the eyes that came to peer at him.

Or maybe that's just his mind drowning in hormones.

Peter's electric blue eyes stared into his soul for a moment before he hummed and leaned in to press their lips together. The sound that left Stiles' throat before he buried his fingers in Peter's hair was something he'd forever hear haunting his embarrassed nightmares but so be it, because he was _kissing Peter_.

"Maybe," Stiles said, desperate to fill the room with some kind of noise that wasn't his pitiful and embarrassing gasps and moans. Peter easily moved back to his neck while Stiles talked, mouthing and nipping at the thin, sensitive skin of his throat. "Maybe all of the horrible essays building up to this one were _my _good omens..."

Peter's mouth stopped moving.

Stiles, terrified he'd just ruined everything, chuckled awkwardly, inwardly slapping himself in the face for saying something so _stupid_.

"Because..." Stiles continued, chuckling awkwardly again, except grimacing at the same time. "Because Good Omens... The book...?"

Peter leaned back and gave Stiles the coldest deadpan look he'd ever seen. Then, he said, in an equally deadpan voice, "Your ill-timed humor could bring about the Armageddon if you're not too careful, dear."

It took a moment for Stiles to understand what the hell he was even talking about, which was a testament to how disarrayed he was considering he'd just tried to make a joke about the very same subject just two seconds ago. When it finally did hit him, the grin that spread across his face was matched by Peter's terribly amused smirk. A cringing laugh bubbled its way out of Stiles' chest.

"Let's just not make any jokes right now," Stiles said. "Because I think we can both agree they're not sexy." Which was a total lie. For some reason the fact that he knew that Peter had a sense of humor just as bad as his own under all that _don't-care-about-your-bullshit _armor made him all the more attracted to him.

"Of course not."

"Yeah." Stiles bit his lip as he and Peter stood there, groin to groin, staring at each other, both struggling to hold in their smiles.

"On with the night, then?" Peter suggested with the raise of a brow after too long of a moment had passed.

"Uh, yeah, yes please."

Peter grabbed Stiles' hand, then sent him a tiny smirk. "Lets saunter vaguely towards the bedroom, then, shall we?" Once again, it took a moment to understand the reference.

Peter's indignant yelp when Stiles slapped him in the gut echoed through the empty loft.

-

When Derek walked into the loft, having arrived home earlier than planned, he froze midway through a step when he heard the unmistakable sounds of Peter and Stiles' loud moaning and groaning filling the air as well as the sound of skin slapping skin. Hard. His face scrunched up and he whined in quiet agony, but he politely pulled the door shut softly behind him and opted to spend the night outside in his car.

As he lay down uncomfortably in the Camero's back seat, he let out a sigh. It didn't take much to wrap his head around Peter and Stiles' newfound relationship; they'd always seemed a little close in an unhealthy kind of way. He'd always assumed it would either lead to a very violent falling out, or a very passionate coming together...

At least now he didn't have to fret about the former idea. He was happy for them. Truly happy. Certainly jealous, as he'd always harbored a childish crush on the lanky, awkward teenage boy, but he was inconceivably content nonetheless.

He allowed himself a small, relieved, sympathetically happy smile in the solitude of his own company.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Fact: Miss Whitlock was my teacher and it was known throughout the entire school that she and I were worst enemies. Mortal enemies. She was headstrong and passive-aggressively harsh so naturally I had to be the biggest little shit I possibly could. I tried so very hard to do everything I could to piss her off and show her I disrespected her more than anyone else in the entire world. She should've appreciated the effort I put into doing that instead of all the worksheets and book reports she bombarded us with.
> 
> The included essay excerpt was actually copied word-for-word from the one that I submitted to her because humor is best when it's genuine (unlike Stiles, though, I got steadfastly suspended because my principal was obnoxious. But whatever. Personal feats and whatnot)


End file.
